


All Bets

by skyenapped



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Fluff, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Running, Seduction, Shower Sex, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyenapped/pseuds/skyenapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When I lose? You mean <i>if</i> I lose? Be realistic Harvey, you’re going to be running on tired legs.” </p><p>“I mean <i>when</i> you lose – and you will, Mike, trust me – I’ll decide what it is I want. For now, I can’t think of anything, so you can go back to work and start praying you get some calf muscles overnight, because you’re gonna need them around mile four. And, for your information, I happen to run even better on tired legs.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Bets

**Author's Note:**

> Harvey challenges Mike to a road race, but with ulterior motives. Mike is a smartass, Harvey is a little creepy, and there's sort of a plot here but really it was just an excuse to write porn.
> 
> (i swear this was going to be fluff but then it turned into porn and apparently back into fluff again i don't even know tbh)

*

“Hey, nice of you to show up.” Mike announced sarcastically from the couch as Harvey strolled through the door.

“What’s the problem now, Mike?” Harvey asked. “I wasn’t here to listen to your _Days of Our Lives_ recap?”

Mike snorted. “No, I just thought since you said you’d be here at eight, you’d be here at eight. You know, because you said you’re a man of your word. And because I skipped breakfast breaking my neck to finish these briefs like, an hour ago.”

Harvey didn’t reply and sat down at his desk. Mike leaned forward, studying him.

“Where were you anyway? You don’t look like you just woke up.”

“That’s because I didn’t,” Harvey said. “Morning stress relief. Went a little long.”

Mike’s eyes widened a little and he said, “Ohh.”

“Not that,” Harvey rolled his eyes and swiped the air. “I was out for a run. It’s such a beautiful day so I made it a 20k. I mistakenly thought you could handle things on your own for a bit without parental supervision.”

Mike stood up and walked to Harvey’s desk, resting the files down with a light slap. “Handled and handled.”

“Good,” Harvey replied.

Mike lingered for a minute and then said, “So, must’ve been a slow 20k, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I’m just saying. If you thought you could be here at eight and now it’s…” Mike looked at his watch. “9:15…”

“I went home to take a shower,” Harvey explained, leaning back a bit to motion to his impeccable suit and perfectly coiffed hair. “Obviously.”

“Hm,” Mike looked away in exaggerated thought.

“What?”

“I’m just wondering, you know, what your pace was.”

Harvey scoffed. “Faster than yours.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know, Mike. I run distance,” He motioned toward Mike dismissively and shook his head. “You… _ride a bike.”_

“Okay, well, for your information,” Mike began. “A lot of runners start out as cyclists because—”

“You’re not a cyclist, Mike. You ride a bike. To Brookyln. Because you’re some kind of tree hugger or you can’t afford a car or…whatever.”

Mike opened his mouth to speak but stopped. Finally he said, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

When he didn’t say anything else, Harvey sighed. He stopped typing the e-mail he’d started working on and sat back, feeling a little bad. “Okay, Mike, finish your story.”

“No, nevermind.” Mike dropped his head and sulked back over to the couch where he sat down looking more than a little hurt.

“Mike, tell your damn story.”

“You don’t care.”

Harvey was pretty sure Mike was playing it up but because the kid looked so convincing, he aired on the side of caution. And maybe it was easier to work with Mike if he hadn’t been offended, or maybe Harvey really cared and Mike’s pout was too adorable to ignore, but Harvey would never specify exactly which of those things caused him to want to get Mike talking again.  

“Sure I do. A lot of runners start out as cyclists. I didn’t know that. I’m fascinated, tell me more.”

Mike ignored the slight sarcasm in Harvey’s voice and chose to focus on the apology beneath it. He perked up.

“Okay,” he said. “So the reason is because cycling improves cardio fitness, which you need to run distance. It’s much easier to start out cycling and make the transition to running after you’ve achieved some level of cardio conditioning.”

Harvey shrugged, “I just started running. Never touched a bike.”

“Well, we can’t all be Harvey Specter, can we?”

“Apparently not,” Harvey smirked. “But I’d race a cyclist any day and crush him. I mean, they don’t have the leg strength. Quads, okay. Maybe they beat me in an uphill mile. But distance? No way.”

“Maybe they don’t have the same leg strength,” Mike conceded. “But their cardio is so good they can usually push themselves. It’s easier to push your body leg-wise if your heart rate and breathing are under control than it is to push your body when your heart rate is maxed out, even if you feel like your legs have a few more miles in them.”

 “Let’s agree to disagree.”

“You know I’m right.”

Harvey laughed and leaned forward on his elbows. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?”

Mike squinted. “You mean, like a bet?”

“I mean 7am tomorrow, Central Park, 10k.”

“And what do I get if I win?”

“You mean if I don’t kick your ass all the way to Atlantic City?” Harvey raised his eyebrows. He thought for a moment and added, “I’ll keep you away from Louis for a week.”

Mike considered the offer and then countered, “Two weeks.”

“One and a half.”

“Twelve days.”

“Mike, this isn’t a negotiation.”

“Did you have a stroke? _All bets_ involve negotiation. I win, Louis leaves me alone for twelve days. No briefs, no housing court, no lectures, no…following me into the bathroom.”

“Fine,” Harvey relented. “And if _I_ win?”

“What?”

“What do I get if I win?”

“I don’t know,” Mike shrugged. “You just win. That usually seems to be enough for you.”

Harvey grinned. “It is. But a little extra incentive wouldn’t hurt. Besides, if I have to shield you from Louis for twelve days – which isn’t a problem, since the man is afraid of his own shadow – it’s still a relative inconvenience to my day. It’s only fair to level the playing field, don’t you think?”

Mike nodded but then quickly shrugged again, “But I don’t even have anything you _want,_ Harvey.”

Harvey coughed, his elbow jerking and accidentally causing a pen to fly off the desk and across the room.

Mike frowned. “So….” It was one of the very rare times he’d ever seen Harvey flustered. “Is there…?”

It was kind of odd, but Mike brushed it off.

“No,” Harvey said certainly, clearing his throat once he’d straightened up. “You’re right, I pretty much have everything I need. So I’ll come up with something later and when you lose we’ll go from there.”

“ _When_ I lose? You mean _if_ I lose? Be realistic Harvey, you’re going to be running on tired legs.”

“I mean _when_ you lose – and you will, Mike, trust me – I’ll decide what it is I want. For now, I can’t think of anything, so you can go back to work and start praying you get some calf muscles overnight, because you’re gonna need them around mile four. And, for your information, I happen to run even better on tired legs.”

Mike scoffed. “We’ll see.” He stood up again and walked toward Harvey, adding, “But you can’t just make up the rules after the fact, Harvey, that isn’t fair. We have to shake on it right now.”

“We can still shake on it.”

Mike glared.

“What’s the problem? I thought you were sure you were gonna win? Cyclist cardio power was going to carry you through?”

“I’m _pretty sure,”_ Mike clarified. “I’m not _positive_. You could be on steroids for all I know,” he paused to roll his eyes. “Wouldn’t surprise me, actually.”

Harvey laughed. “Come on, Mike, have a little confidence.” He outstretched his hand.

Mike eyed him suspiciously but eventually shook it. “Fine,” he said. “I don’t really care, as long as you don’t hand feed me to Louis again. That’s off the table.”

“Deal.”

“So, 7am?”

Harvey nodded. “Don’t be late.”

 

*

 

Saturday morning, Mike kneeled on the running path to tie his shoes – lightweight neon Asics, which happened to be his lucky ones. He glanced over at Harvey who was doing stretches.

“I feel like we should do a warm-up,” he called.

“It’s 6.2 miles, Mike. The first three _are_ your warm-up.”

Mike shrugged and finished double-knotting.

“Speaking of which,” Harvey added, walking over. “Let me know how your feet are doing in those after the four mile mark.”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” Mike asked, offended. He’d gotten them years ago. They still fit and he broke them out once in a while for special occasions. He figured the chance to beat Harvey in a road race qualified as such.

“There’s no support,” Harvey told him. “There’s nothing to them. You wear those for a 5k, max.”

Mike rolled his eyes, “Says the guy wearing anvils on his feet.”

“Everyone knows Brooks are the best. You’ll see.”

They walked toward the woods where the trail disappeared into. Harvey tapped the pavement with his toes.

“I’ve mapped it perfectly,” he said. “It’s two 5k loops. We end where we begin, right here.”

“How do we know who wins?” Mike asked.

Harvey glanced around and then pointed to a noticeable bench just off the side of the trail. “First to pass – not reach, but pass – that bench there, wins.”

“Okay,” Mike said. “Ready?”

“Hold on, pup. We need to go over our terms again.”

“Our terms?”

“The terms of our negotiation. You’re the one who said it was a negotiation, right?”

Mike shrugged.

“So, if you win—”

“If I win, I don’t work for anyone else for twelve days, including but not limited to, Louis Litt. I don’t do his grunt work or endure his sexual harassment or relay his passive aggressive messages to the other associates. What about you? Did you have a revelation overnight that I’m not as completely useless as you thought?”

“Maybe,” Harvey says, effortlessly stretching an arm over his neck. “If you lose, you come back to my place after the run.”

Mike waited, rocking back on one shoe, expecting Harvey to continue. When he didn’t, Mike’s face fell in confusion. “And…?”

Harvey shrugged, faint smirk on his mouth, but didn’t particularly elaborate. “You said you didn’t care what it was, as long as I didn’t feed you to Louis again. I figured letting you know it’s completely outside of work would be enough information.”

Mike scowled, mildly suspicious, but not too concerned. After all, he could feel the adrenaline starting to kick in and he was _pretty sure_ he was going to win this. “Fine,” he said eventually. “I’m not worried. It’s probably some case you need my amazingly brilliant mind for and would otherwise be embarrassed to ask. Doesn’t surprise me you’d spend your weekend working from home. Besides, doesn’t matter, ‘cause I’m gonna win.”

“Are you sure?” Harvey asked challengingly.

“Yes,” Mike said, trying to sound confident. Like he’d said the day before, he was _pretty sure_ , but he never knew what cards Harvey had up his sleeve. Just how much distance did he actually run? What was his pace? How hard could he push himself? Mike realized he didn’t actually know what he was getting into, but he tried to mask it with false bravado. “I’m sure. Unless…you plan to kill me. Is that it?”

Harvey shook his head, “It’d be more practical to do that out here. But no. You are sometimes useful.”

Mike laughed and bounced on his feet a few times in anticipation.

“So do we have a deal?” Harvey asked. “Officially?”

“Yup.”

They stood side by side on the path, fingers on their respective watches, preparing to press start. Harvey looked to his right, eyes raking not-very-discreetly over Mike in his running attire, which had turned out to be nothing but his ridiculously bright Asics and running shorts. Mike was too oblivious though, looking up innocently from his own watch, the gaze completely lost on him.

 “You ready?”

Mike nodded.  “Let’s go, Usain Bolt.”

 

*

 

By the time they started their second loop, Mike was doing pretty well. His heart rate was elevated, but not necessarily high. He had so much cushion left between where he was and his VO2 max, he felt like he could run for days. His legs, on the other hand, were beginning to fatigue. By four miles, his pace had slowed significantly.

Harvey came up behind him, where he’d been settled in for most of the run, easily gaining ground as Mike fell back.

“How are you doing, Forrest? Go out of the gate a little too hard?”

“I’m doing perfect,” Mike lied, glancing at his watch. “I feel great. Just reeling it in a little, saving my energy for the end when I out-sprint you.”

Harvey laughed, “Mhm.”

“What? I am.”

“Okay.”

After that, Harvey picked up his pace and ran ahead. Before too long, Mike couldn’t even see him anymore. He muttered obscenities under his breath as his calfs began to ache, and leaned forward in an effort to engage his quads a little more. If anything could save him, that was his best bet. He took a deep breath and pushed hard, dropping his pace from 6:40 to a grueling 6:10 in a valiant effort close the gap.

It wasn’t until after five miles that he managed to catch Harvey and stride up next to him, not even bothering to conceal the way he struggled to keep his legs turning over.

“How’s your cardio now?” Harvey asked breathlessly.

Mike could tell from the way Harvey panted to maintain his own pace that he’d probably started struggling a while ago. “Clearly better than yours.”

Harvey grunted, breathing hard and fast through his nose. “And your legs?”

“Not so good,” Mike admitted, barely staying at Harvey’s shoulder. “How’s _your_ cardio?”

Harvey shot him a friendly glare.

“What are we even running right now?” Mike asked after a few minutes. The sound of their feet hitting the ground in time seemed to emphasize his words. “I’m afraid to look. Nevermind, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. If I know, I’ll stop.”

“6:15,” Harvey told him. “We’re at 5.3.”

“Holy shit,” Mike said. His legs felt like lead. “Fuck. Fuck!”

“If you’d shut up you might breathe a little better,” Harvey remarked.

“I’m breathing fine,” Mike told him, though he still struggled to speak while running so fast. “You’re…the one…who sounds like you’re having a…. heart attack.”

“That’s because… I’m racing, Mike.”

“So you’re saying this… is it? A 6:15 is …everything …the great Harvey...Specter… has?”

Harvey smiled deviously. “Maybe.”

They fell quiet, trying to take in oxygen too quickly to talk in anything but short gasps. With a half mile to go, Mike felt Harvey start to pull away.

“Ohhh, fuck,” Mike breathed. “Are you…fucking… _fuck, Harvey!”_

Mike looked at his watch as the GPS showed them closing in on six miles. His cardio was holding up, as he predicted, though his lungs were finally beginning to burn – and his legs were almost completely shot. It took every ounce of willpower, every shred of mind-over-matter he had in his soul to keep from slowing down or stopping altogether. Harvey was about three yards ahead when they hit six miles. With less than .2 to go, Mike decided that whether he won or lost – he wasn’t going to make it easy for his opponent.

He sucked in a deep breath, willing the oxygen to go straight to his exhausted muscles, and grimaced as he picked up his feet. Every step was torture. Harvey was right about his shoes – he felt like he was running directly on the pavement, the constant impact slamming right through his thin soles and sending a shooting pain up his shins.

It was a neck-and-neck, arms-swinging, full-on sprint with two tenths of a mile to go. Mike could see the bench up ahead, within reach, but it felt like a hundred miles away. Their shoulders brushed as they weaved on the course, both fighting tooth and nail for victory. Mike used everything he had to push himself as fast as he could go, and Harvey did the same.

But in the end, the speed Mike had in his legs capped out – and Harvey’s didn’t. Though Harvey’s breathing was erratic, heart rate maxed, he was able to hold on, and his legs allowed him to run an impressive 5:54 in the homestretch. He stopped immediately after passing the bench, slowed to a walk, hands on his hips as he started to recover. Mike was right behind him, one, maybe two seconds, tops, and he leaned over and braced himself on his knees.

“Shit,” he said, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. _“Shit.”_

A few feet away, Harvey laughed. He walked over and put his palm on Mike’s shoulder, noticing the way it slipped on his wet skin. “That was one hell of a fight, rookie.”

Mike groaned, standing up straight and then collapsing completely into a sitting position. “It was everything I had,” he confessed dramatically. “That was it. That was everything. Oh god, my legs are dead!”

He stayed on the ground for several minutes, his legs like jelly, chest heaving, as Harvey paced back and forth to cool down.

“I can still keep Louis off your back for a while if you want,” Harvey told him, after his own breathing had started returning to normal.

“Really?”

He nodded, “Sure. I didn’t expect it to be so close.”

Mike rolled his eyes, “Thanks.”

“Come on.” Harvey extended his hand.

“Oh, right,” Mike said, using Harvey’s hand to pull himself back to his feet. “I forgot, I have to come clean your mansion.”

Harvey just smirked as they walk away.

 

*

 

“Water?”

Mike took the bottle from Harvey’s hand and nodded appreciatively, “Thanks.” He took a long drink and looked around. The place was immaculate, as usual, and Mike didn’t see anything that resembled work on the table. “So where is it?”

“Where’s what?” Harvey asked, opening his own bottle of water.

“I don’t know,” Mike shrugged. “The clause you can’t find? The missing 18 minutes of Watergate? The body you need help hiding?”

Harvey didn’t respond.

“Oh god.” Mike pretended to look serious, following him as he headed into the living room. “There’s really a body. Who is it? Who did you kill?”

Harvey smiled, amused, and said, “There’s no body, Mike. Not that you would be my person of choice if I ever wanted to get rid of one without actually being caught.”

Briefly, Mike looked hurt, but then nodded in agreement. Harvey held up his water bottle as if to say _exactly._

He let Mike linger for several minutes, looking around, drinking his water, not appearing too concerned about whatever it was he’d agreed to come there for in the first place. Apparently, having immunity from Louis, coupled with his runner’s high, made Mike temporarily forget about it and allowed him to peacefully lean back against a wall while he cooled off.

“You’re much faster than I expected,” Harvey eventually announced, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “I really thought I’d win by a few minutes at least.”

Mike grinned, “I thought you’d beat me by a few miles, honestly.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I thought I had a chance when we first talked about it, but then when we got out there I realized…I’m not a runner. I mean, I _could_ be a runner, but I’m not. Besides, your calfs are _huge.”_

Harvey laughed gently. “You’re pretty good at the bike thing. Why don’t you just stick to that?”

“I guess,” Mike sighed.

Harvey took a few steps closer, the gap between them growing smaller and smaller, and his heart beating a little harder in his chest, like he was still running. He knew what he was about to do was probably wrong, but he also knew how much he wanted it, and how tempting it was, and that his self-control was long ago worn down anyway. He reached out and put his fingers on Mike’s stomach, lightly at first, just two fingers barely pressing against the still-warm skin, now clammy from drying sweat.

Mike felt the contact, looked down to see Harvey’s fingers just dragging down his torso, almost casually. He could feel Harvey’s eyes burning into him, gauging his reaction, waiting to see what he would do, waiting to see if he’d object or slip away while he still had the chance. But Mike didn’t do anything, and when Harvey’s fingers drifted lower, stopping just at the waistline of his shorts, he froze completely.

He finally found the courage to say something, but Harvey interrupted, which Mike then decided was for the best since he wasn’t entirely sure what he even planned to say or if it would have made any sense at all. His mouth, despite the water, had gone dry. Harvey’s speech, on the other hand, seemed unaffected.

“If I knew this was all it took to get you out of your shirt, I would have taken you running much sooner.”

Mike swallowed hard, glancing from Harvey’s fingers, as they traced a dangerous line across his lower stomach, to his eyes, focused and dark with lust. Instinctively, he tried to step back, but there was nowhere to go. Harvey flattened his hand against his skin and slid it up his chest.

“I…” Mike could only manage a word at a time. _“…Oh.”_

“What?” Harvey asked, but he continued to brazenly rub his palm all over Mike’s chest, up and down, and then off to the side of his ribs, touching him, mapping him out, learning what he felt like under his hand.

“I…um. Is this…is this what…is this why you wanted me to…”

 Harvey gave him a calculated smile and shook his head slowly, “Not exactly.”

Mike couldn’t respond, not with Harvey’s roaming hand completely distracting him, lighting his skin on fire, making his heart pound and his fingers tingle, so he just stood and waited.

“I was hoping,” Harvey explained, letting his hand fall lower and lower until he was hovering over Mike’s waistband again. He leaned in, still far enough away that their faces didn’t touch but close enough that his breath hit Mike hotly on the shoulder. “…that if I got you sweaty and got you in my apartment, it wouldn’t be much harder to get you into my shower.”

Mike felt Harvey’s fingertips slipping into his shorts, slowly, excruciatingly, _tortuously_ slow, and finally he reached down and grabbed his wrist, stopping him before he could go any further, giving himself time to think. But it wasn’t very helpful, since Mike’s processing seemed to have stalled altogether, and all he could concentrate on was how it felt to be touched like that, by _him._

“So…you…” Mike took a deep breath and found his voice, his hand still tightly gripped around Harvey’s wrist, not pushing him away but not letting him touch him anywhere else, either. “Y-y-you want me in your…shower?”

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to do,” Harvey told him, this time leaning in a little further. His voice turned rough and suggestive against Mike’s neck. “I just wanna wash all this sweat off you.”

Mike made a small noise of surprise and shifted against the wall, at a loss for any coherent thought. His brain was already exploding with post-run endorphins and now that was colliding with the onset of confusion spurred by Harvey’s hand and words. He didn’t know what to say. A small part of his mind that was able to sort through it all realized maybe this made sense – maybe all those looks Harvey had shot him that he thought Mike didn’t notice, and maybe all the innuendo and joking had actually meant something, actually been a precursor for what was happening – maybe Harvey had planned it all along. Mike was still a little stunned, though, if only because he hadn’t ever considered that he might be Harvey’s type. Harvey just seemed so far away, so high up, on some distant level or pedestal that Mike felt he couldn’t reach even if he’d stood on ten briefcases of pot.

“I’m going to go run the water,” Harvey said calmly, and Mike snapped back to the present. “In the meantime, if you want to leave, the door is open.”

With that, Harvey walked away, making sure to pull his damp t-shirt up and over his head while he was still in full view, and then disappeared into the bedroom. Mike exhaled, sagging back against the wall in relief. He looked across the room to the front door and for a few seconds, considered walking through it, but his muscles were exhausted and he couldn’t convince his legs to move. He could hear the dull roar of water running from the bathroom and he could feel the ghost of Harvey’s fingers coasting over his skin like a flame.

After a few minutes, Harvey reappeared in the bedroom doorway, a loose towel wrapped around him and sitting precariously low on his hips. Mike stared, mouth falling open just a little, looking at where the towel skimmed Harvey’s knees and then up to where it hugged him gently at the beginning of a tan line.

“You’re still here,” Harvey observed, looking smug and not particularly surprised that Mike had yet to bolt. “You want to stay or your legs just can’t go another step?”

Mike broke his stare and said, finally, “I…don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you want to stay or you don’t know if you’re too tired to go home?”

For lack of a better answer, Mike just shook his head. Harvey jerked two fingers toward himself and said, “Come here.”

Mike hesitated briefly, but then obeyed, uncertainty creeping in as he met Harvey at the door and then slowly followed him into the bathroom. Harvey’s shower looked like something out of a five-star hotel, with various shiny metal faucets and dark marble tile. Steam had already started to form behind the clear glass, swirling around where the water fell in heavy, high-pressure streams, making the entire room humid and hazy. Mike heard the door click shut and lock behind him and he took his eyes off the hypnotizing water to turn and see Harvey stepping close.

“It’s just a shower, Mike,” he said, with a small curve of his lip. “I promise. You _were_ going to take one anyway, right?”

Mike nodded. “No. I mean yeah. Yeah, I just…didn’t…expect…”

“You didn’t expect me to hit on you?”

“Not really.”

Harvey smirked, crowding into Mike’s space, and he seemed way too entertained by the situation, which Mike found mildly infuriating even if it did happen to look good on him. He felt their chests brush against each other for a second and again, Mike couldn’t quite move or breathe, part of him too busy weighing a budding fight or flight sensation and the rest of him preoccupied with tracing the lines of Harvey’s body with his eyes. Eventually, he felt Harvey’s arm travel down to his side, his thumb slip into his elastic waistband, pushing his shorts down in one motion until they hit the floor. Mike didn’t stop him. His brain was cloudy and all he could hear over the sound of the running water was his own pounding heart.

“You know how you feel right now,” Harvey started to say. Mike wanted to say no, no he had no idea how he felt, that he was fucking confused and more than a little torn between getting turned on and running for his life and that there didn’t seem to be an acceptable middle ground. But instead he stayed quiet, letting Harvey’s hand rest on his hip as he continued. “Just…exhausted and sore and…filthy…?”

Mike tried to ignore the way Harvey’s eyes were definitely not on his face anymore. With him so close, Mike could feel his breath and smell the faded scent of deodorant, long since destroyed by perspiration. He took a measured breath. “Yeah. Like we just ran six miles as hard as we could.”

“Exactly,” Harvey said, slipping his hand behind Mike’s back to reach the shower door and slide it open. “And you feel good, worn out in the best way, right?”

Mike nodded dumbly. It sounded right; he felt tired but also invigorated.

“And all you need is a long, hot shower and to just get really, really clean, right?” Harvey pushed him backwards gently until Mike had no choice but to look down and watch his footing as he stepped into the shower, hot steam enveloping him at once. Harvey let go just long enough to tug off his towel, slip inside, and slide the door closed. He immediately replaced his hands on Mike, one on his hip, one on his shoulder, nudging him back until he was directly under the showerhead and hot water was pouring down over his body, soaking him completely.

Mike felt the shock fade, let the water cascade down his face and back and legs, and realized it felt good, like millions of tiny massagers hitting his muscles in all the right places. But Harvey was standing in front of him, so close, body naked and glistening from the steam, and it was all way too much. Mike looked up, water flooding into his mouth as he quietly said, _“Whoa.”_

“Yeah,” Harvey leaned in, and for a split second Mike thought he was going to kiss him, but instead he just hovered close to his ear and whispered, _“Whoa.”_

Mike gasped and Harvey reached past him to pull a bottle of soap off the shower ledge. He opened the cover with a small pop, his eyes still travelling up and down Mike’s body appreciatively.

“You nervous?” he asked, even though he already knew; already could tell by the way Mike’s muscles wanted to relax but kept tensing, and the way the kid was trying really hard not to make eye contact, but not look too far down either.

Mike nodded.

“Why?”

Mike wanted to say _Um, because we’re in the shower. Naked. Together. You’re my boss and I’m…me,_ but since it was all already painfully obvious, he just gave Harvey a pointed look.

“Come on,” Harvey teased. “Where’s the cocky brat from this morning who was _pretty sure_ he was going to win a road race against me in yellow Asic Flashes? It’s me, Mike. It’s just me.”

“I know,” Mike replied, trying to convey in his tone what he really meant, which was that Harvey wasn’t _just_ anyone – he was everyone. He had the entirety of Mike’s life in his hands and the ability to either protect it or crush it, and yet, somehow, Mike still trusted him not to do the latter. “That’s the point.”

Harvey studied him for a minute, trying to read Mike’s face as the water fell around them, drenching them, heating them up, but he had a feeling he knew what Mike was getting at. He was quiet for a minute, poured the soap into his hands, put the bottle back, and started to run the liquid through his hair while Mike watched. Then, realizing he was blocking the door, and Mike’s exit, said, “Do you want to get out?”

Mike opened his mouth but didn’t speak. He looked to the door, glass completely fogged up, and then back to Harvey, eyes trailing up to watch his hands as they got lost in the thick lather in his hair. “I don’t know,” he finally managed, his eyes narrowing a bit in suspicion – or curiosity – as he added, “I mean, um, what is it you wanna do, exactly?”

Harvey let out a breathy laugh, just hardly audible over the water. “Well, _that’s_ Pandora’s Box, isn’t it?” He nudged Mike to the side, toward the wall, so he could tip his head back and rinse out the soap. He didn’t have to see Mike’s face to know he was making wide eyes, so when Harvey finished rinsing off his head he wiped the excess water off his mouth and added, “Relax, rookie. It’s nothing you can’t…handle.”

Mike waited for Harvey to elaborate on his motives, hoping he wouldn’t torture him with the hesitation much longer. He felt strong arms wind around his waist, tugging him close until his back landed flush against Harvey’s chest.

“I want to wash you,” Harvey told him, pressing the side of his face against his neck. He kept one arm wrapped securely around Mike’s waist, holding him against him, and ran the other one up and down his chest, then his side, and, cautiously, down to his thigh. “Everywhere.”

 _“Oh…fuck,”_ Mike sighed, a little desperate, and he wasn’t entirely sure if what Harvey said was really kinky or really… _sweet_. All he knew was that his voice had gone straight to his groin, a place Harvey’s hand was currently not far away from; hovering on a line but not quite daring to cross it.

“What does _oh fuck_ mean?” Harvey asked, keeping his hand between Mike’s thigh, just massaging the muscle there like it was as innocent as touching his arm or his shoulder. “Does that mean yes?”

 “It means I don’t know,” Mike admitted, shifting his leg but only managing to cause Harvey’s hand to slide up a little further _. “Oh god,_ what… _what_ are you doing?”

Harvey lined his lips up just above Mike’s ear. “Shhh,” he purred, tightening his hold around his waist. _“Are you gonna be a good boy or not?”_

Mike’s mind went haywire. Harvey hadn’t dropped _that_ title on him in a while and the intimidating voice awoke every receptor in Mike’s brain, confusing him, overwhelming him, warning him, and convincing him all at the same time. He had no idea how he was ever supposed to sit quietly in a boardroom across from the man after this without turning permanently red. Thinking about it was one thing, a thing that no one else – including Harvey – knew about. But this was a turning point, this was real, and Mike couldn’t see how they could ever go back to working together normally again. Well, he didn’t know how _he_ could. Harvey, he figured, would probably do just fine. Mike’s last thoughts, before he could respond, were that despite all of those things and despite his concern and hesitation, Harvey’s hands felt good on him – intrusive, yes, but good – and that above all else, he _definitely_ wanted to be a good boy.

“Okay,” he relented. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just relax.”

Mike made a conscious effort to lean into Harvey’s embrace instead of shying away from it.

“Good,” Harvey said, his voice coated with just a hint of praise. “Now just do what I tell you.” Mike could hear the smirk in his voice when he added, “I think we both know that won’t be a problem…right?”

“…R-right…” Mike murmured, too distracted with letting himself be guided forward to be offended. He heard the slight crack of plastic and then felt two strong hands pressing cool, fragrant gel into his shoulders, working it on to his skin and into a thick, smooth lather.

Harvey’s hands trailed down Mike’s back, working in gentle strokes and circles, but with just enough pressure to encourage the tension to leave his muscles. They lingered at his hips for a while, squeezing and massaging for several minutes, the rhythm and the sensation almost lulling Mike into a stupor as the hot water surrounded him. He kept waiting for it to run out, to suddenly turn cold the way his did if, God forbid, anyone else in the building decided to turn on a faucet. But Harvey’s shower seemed to have an endless supply, with the constant, pressured streams running over them and never once in dropping in temperature. It was a little like being in a spring, Mike realized, a hot, hot spring where all of his stress was being manually worked out of him by Harvey’s fingers and palms. And after a while, the shock wore off. It stopped being weird (mostly) and just started feeling good.

Mike was so lost in the sensation he hardly noticed that Harvey was gently moving him again until he was already facing the exquisite tiled shower wall, trying to brace himself against it with slippery hands.

“Is this good?” Harvey’s voice was low, hardly audible over the sound of the rushing water. It was evident that he was preoccupied as his hands roamed lower and lower, fingers pressing hard into the small of Mike’s slick, soapy back, just rubbing them into the skin and against his spine over and over until Mike leaned his forehead against the wall and whined.

_“God.”_

Harvey hummed, hands trailing down again until they were sliding over Mike’s ass, down to his thighs , and back up again. He felt him tensing and relaxing under his touch. “God?”

Mike moaned and muttered a string of blasphemy through the water running over his mouth, _“Yeah, God, fuck, uh, fuck, fuck.”_

Two hands on his hips spun him around so fast his feet nearly slid out from under him. He let out a startled noise, his head flying up, heart pounding and then slowing when he realized despite his slippery skin, Harvey’s hands held him up securely. Instinctively, Mike reached up and grabbed Harvey’s biceps anyway.

Harvey dragged his hand up and down Mike’s chest, watching, mesmerized, as the water rinsed away the suds, revealing smooth, clean, pale skin. “I want you to look at me.”

“O-okay,” Mike stared, partly because of the request but mostly because Harvey looked so fucking hot, inches way at most, wearing nothing, soaking wet, hot water running down his face and neck, steam coming off his shoulders.

“You like this,” Harvey observed, looking down. And Mike knew he was looking at his dick, and he could feel himself blushing, and all he could hope was that he could pass as being flushed from the heat of the shower. But then Harvey looked back up and smirked, and Mike knew he was caught.

He writhed a little under Harvey’s gaze and then confessed, “Yeah.”

“Say it.”

“I like it.”

“You like my hands on you.”

“I like your hands on me.”

Satisfied, Harvey leaned in, sliding his knee between Mike’s thighs and dipping his head down toward his neck. “I think we should make bets more often that involve a high likelihood of you losing to me.”

Mike sighed, dropping his hands from Harvey’s arms and running them down his sides and across his back. If Harvey could touch _him_ – _he_ could touch Harvey. “You cheated.”

“I bent the rules,” Harvey said innocently, mouth hovering over Mike’s shoulder.

“For your own benefit,” Mike replied.

Harvey pushed his leg forward and leaned in closer, closer, closer until his thigh slotted firmly up against Mike’s dick, which was gratifyingly hard. Harvey grinned, pleased that his plan had worked. Was _still_ working.

Mike gasped, digging his nails into Harvey’s back. _“Ohh, fuck…”_

“I don’t think I’m the only one benefiting, do you?”

“You’re…a…jerk…” Mike started to say, but when he felt Harvey pulling back, the friction disappearing, he shoved his face against Harvey’s chest in frustration. “No, wait! Wait, _sorry_ , you’re not a jerk, you’re…just… _please…”_

“I’m what?” Harvey asked curiously, standing up straight. He pushed Mike backwards against the wall to look him in the eye. “And are you _begging_ me?”

“Seems like something you’d like,” Mike fired back, his voice finding a few fleeting seconds of clarity and insolence between gritting his teeth and chasing Harvey’s thigh with his hips. The latter was unsuccessful with Harvey standing just barely but maddeningly out of reach, one strong arm across Mike’s chest, holding him in place.

“Maybe it is.” Harvey smiled deviously. “What are you begging for?”

Mike whined, reaching out to shove Harvey though it barely resulted in the slightest sway. “You already _know.”_

“I do?”

“Yeah, you just wanna hear me say it.”

“Well?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Mike looked away. “I don’t know if you want it. I don’t wanna say the wrong thing.”

Harvey let him shift nervously on his feet for a few seconds, but then took pity, stepping back into his space, briefly pressing his mouth against his neck and then whispering roughly. “You want me to touch you, you want me to get you off. I know that, I can tell by how hard you are. God, Mike, all I did was wash you and you’re so…”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mike’s hand sliding down by his side, and he knew what he was up to, and he reached out his own hand to grab Mike’s wrist and stop him abruptly, pinning it to his own stomach. _“No,”_ he said, voice stern.

“But…” Mike whimpered and shifted, looking for friction or pressure or _anything_ , but he found nothing. He groaned in discomfort. _“Please…”_

Harvey continued, breathing hotly in Mike’s ear, acting cavalier toward his desperation for the sole purpose of increasing it even more. He wanted to help him, wanted to touch him, wanted to watch him fall apart under his hand beneath the hot, endless stream of water – but this was too fun to rush. “I want to do it, I really do, Mike. I want to touch you and make you come and I want to hear what you sound like when you do but—”

_“What, what, what? I’ll do anything, what do you want me to do, unnhhh, Harvey, just tell me, please, or let me touch myself, just…for…a second, Harvey?”_

_“Shhh_. As I was saying,” Harvey darted his tongue out, just enough to lick several drops of water off of Mike’s neck, and more than enough to make him shudder. “I want to touch you so bad but…you have to tell me… _exactly_ …what you want me to do. Do you just want my hand on you? Want me to jack you off hard and fast until your legs shake?”

 _“Fuck,_ yes…please.”

“Or do you want me to use my mouth? Or both? Or…”

_“Unnh. Come. Onnn.”_

_“Or_ …” Harvey leaned in, reveling in the way Mike was literally shaking, trapped between him and the wall, hands pinned, completely immobile, painfully hard and dizzy with need. He pressed his mouth against Mike’s neck and sucked, pulling away only to finish his sentence. “Maybe you want me inside you. I think that’s what you really want…and you just don’t know how to ask for it. Am I close?”

 _“I…I…”_ Mike stuttered. Honestly, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead, or even any further than possibly rubbing off against Harvey’s thigh because for that fleeting moment it had felt _so good_ , and now he couldn’t even think at all because Harvey’s words were frying his brain. This was positively _not_ how he expected the morning to end.

Harvey leaned back, letting go of Mike’s wrist in favor of framing his face. He ran his fingers along his jaw, up through his soaked hair, and down to the hollow of his throat, just looking at him, studying his face, watching Mike bite his own lip in an effort to hold back, to keep from touching himself now that he was physically free to do so, and yet still inexplicably halted by Harvey’s order not to.

For a minute, Mike couldn’t make out the lust he initially saw in Harvey’s eyes – it seemed to be replaced by something else, some emotion less carnal and more reverent; less impulsive, more affectionate – like it had been there for a long time and Mike just hadn’t noticed it. He couldn’t quite decipher what it meant, but it put him at ease, and he slumped back into the wall, breathing deep, trying not to focus on how hard he was or how desperately he needed to be touched.

“You want me to fuck you,” Harvey told him, voice dark. The lust was back. He put his hands on Mike’s hips. “Say it. Say you want it.”

“I wanna come,” Mike told him instead, breathless, puffing water away from his mouth.

Harvey leaned in close, and again, Mike thought he might kiss him. But, again, Harvey just hovered teasingly over his lips.

“Don’t be a smartass,” he warned. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Mike swallowed hard, trying to focus on what he needed to say instead of what he needed to do, which was reach down and stroke himself _like yesterday._ When he finally managed, it all came out as one long, rushed, nervous run-on sentence. “I think I do but I’ve never…I’ve never been…and I don’t know…I can’t wait that long, Harvey, please.”

Harvey was still enjoying the game, but his resolve was crumbling. Mike was too perfect, standing in front of him, beautiful, wet, needy, begging, uncertain. Harvey couldn’t hold out much longer without giving him what he needed.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to make you a deal.”

Mike looked at him with his best _are you fucking kidding me_ face, but he was so exasperated that his expression translated as more tired than anything else. Everything had to be a game with Harvey, a deal, a bet, a negotiation – and it seemed like even sex was turning into some unorthodox business transaction. Somehow, though, as long as Harvey intended to touch him in the next ten seconds – Mike couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I’m gonna make you come,” Harvey told him, sliding a promising hand down his stomach.

Mike trembled with anticipation.

“And _then_ I’m gonna fuck you. Okay?”

“Yeah, _uhhh,_ yeah, okay, sure,” Mike stuttered, not entirely aware of what he was agreeing to. He sighed in relief as Harvey’s hand closed firmly around his dick. The soap and water had him slick and Harvey’s grip slid up and down with ease. Mike closed his eyes and pushed into it, way too far gone to be embarrassed by how desperate he knew he looked.

“Are you just telling me what I want to hear?” Harvey asked.

Mike’s eyes flew open again and he looked through the water and shook his head.

Harvey backed off the pressure his other arm had across his chest, giving Mike the freedom to move, to rock forward harder, faster, to wildly fuck Harvey’s hand while biting his own lip and whining.

“Feels good. Does it feel good?”

Mike nodded, _“Yes, yes, don’t stop…”_

“I won’t,” Harvey promised, and then, noticing the way Mike kept looking at him, expectant, like there was a plea perched in his throat that he couldn’t quite work up the courage to vocalize, Harvey asked, “What do you need?”

 _“Kiss me,”_ Mike gasped, the instant that Harvey finished asking, like that was all the encouragement Mike needed to speak and it hadn’t come a second too soon. “Please?”

Harvey surged forward, crushing their mouths together, keeping his hand snug around Mike’s dick, stroking him hard and in time with the thrust of his hips, giving him everything he needed all at once. He pushed his tongue into his mouth and felt Mike shudder against him, all of his apprehension from earlier draining out of his body and being flooded away by the hot water.

“I just wanted you to ask,” Harvey told him when he finally pulled away to give them both a chance to breathe.

Mike could almost see the wave of affection washing over Harvey’s face, and he tipped his head back against the tile, moaning and pushing furiously in and out of Harvey’s tight, wet grip.

“I know you’re close,” Harvey said, watching him intently. “I can tell.”

“Fuck,” Mike gasped, which was really as good as any confirmation. “Oh, fuck fuck…”

When Harvey leaned in and kissed him again, shoving his tongue into his mouth, Mike was _gone._ His hips jerked wildly, his shaky hand struggling to hold on to Harvey’s slippery arm. With harsh words of encouragement panted in his ear – things like _You come when I say you come_ and _Now, Mike, or not at all_ – Mike came hard against Harvey’s palm with a helpless whimper.

Harvey lingered with his mouth on Mike’s neck for several seconds. When he pulled away, Mike still looked wrecked, bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes unfocused. Harvey shifted them to the side, away from the brunt of the water, since it seemed like Mike was having a hard time remembering how to breathe under the stream of it. He leaned against Harvey as they moved like standing was already too difficult.

“You should use those legs while you still can,” Harvey told him, though he assumed Mike’s weight for a few minutes, letting him hold on, just leaning in and recovering. He tilted Mike’s chin up with two fingers and he could see the post-orgasmic fatigue in his face. That, coupled with their exhausting run, was more than enough evidence that Mike looked like all he wanted to do was sink to the floor and fall asleep right there in the shower. Which was understandable, and Harvey was even tempted to let him, if only because he looked so precious and worn out. But there were other things he was far more tempted to do, so he tugged Mike up straight and steered him 180 degrees so he was facing the wall.

Water still hit their sides, the heat of it and the endless surrounding steam keeping them hot.

Harvey pressed himself against Mike, chest-to-back, and nuzzled his face into the space between his neck and shoulder. “My turn now,” he whispered. “Okay?”

Mike just nodded slowly, his forehead pressed against the wall.

“Can’t hear you,” Harvey rasped, smiling against his skin and running his hand down Mike’s back, collecting residual soap suds that had been trapped between him and the wall, and working them into his skin until his fingers were slick.

“Okay,” Mike said, finding his voice. When he felt the fingers on his ass, and then sliding down his crack, he tensed, a jolt of something hitting him that he couldn’t place – anticipation? Nerves? Arousal?  He shifted, but Harvey’s fingers followed, moving down and then all the way up and then down again, zoning in on his hole, circling around and around in torturously slow movements that made Mike shudder. “Harvey…I…”

Harvey could feel the way he moved under him, how he shifted away, but then back, and then away, tensing and relaxing like he was desperate for something but had no idea what it was or how to ask for it, and he could hear the anxiety and the uncertainty in his voice. Dipping back in against his ear, Harvey laughed, low and amused, “You think I don’t know you’re a virgin, Mike?”

“I’m not… _unhh…”_ Mike shifted again, this time almost standing on his toes as Harvey increased the pressure behind his fingers.

“Oh but you are,” Harvey purred. “There’s a million reasons how I know but for one, when I first touched you, you almost came in your pants in my living room—”

 “I didn’t—” Mike interrupted.

“Shut up,” Harvey ordered sharply, continuing. “You did. You wanted to be touched so badly it’s like you were sitting water and my fingers were a live wire. Do they still feel like that, right now?”

 _“Oh my god,”_ Mike whined, rolling his head to the side, so that his temple pressed against the wall and he could see Harvey’s face pressed up close to him. He wasn’t sure what was making him feel crazier – the fingers slowly, painfully trying to push inside him, or the dark and filthy way Harvey kept talking to him. Probably both.

“And then there’s the fact that you’re so fucking tight I can hardly get one finger inside you,” Harvey breathed, dragging his teeth against Mike’s neck and flicking his tongue out against his skin. “You’ve never been fucked by a man, more importantly _by me,_ which means you’ve never been adequately fucked at all.”

Mike felt a finger finally slide inside him and he jerked and hissed at the burning stretch of the intrusion. “Fuck, _Harvey,_ wait…”

But Harvey just pushed it further inside, humming into Mike’s ear as he twisted his finger and slowly withdrew it. He pushed it in again, even slower, and out, and then in again, reveling in the sweet, sweet whimpers that spilled from Mike’s mouth every time. It took a dozen of those addicting sounds and needing to hold Mike up with an arm around his stomach, but eventually Harvey got another finger in him, just working him open, making him moan and shift and writhe between the wall and Harvey’s chest, and Harvey had barely just gotten started but he already felt like he owned this kid through and through.

“How does it feel? Does it feel good? Does it hurt?”

Mike’s eyes were screwed shut when he answered, “It’s… _uhhhh…it’s both.”_

“Mm, good,” Harvey said approvingly. He pulled out his fingers and slid his hand up to Mike’s hip, gripping it hard, in contrast to the gentle kiss he placed on his forehead.  “You’re gonna do everything I say now,” he added, and God, he tried to sound authoritative and firm, he _tried,_ but he knew his voice plainly gave away how desperate he was to finally fuck Mike; how turned on he was and how he was trying to keep his cool but was cracking.

He heard a faint, nervous laugh, and a hint of sarcasm in Mike’s reply. “Don’t I always?”

“Spread your legs,” Harvey instructed, kicking Mike’s ankle with his toes. “Smartass.”

When Mike felt Harvey’s dick, slick with water and soap, sliding up against his hole, he tensed again. He wanted it, he wanted _him,_ but he was so far out of his element and he was so painfully inexperienced, and more than a little terrified, that he had no idea how handle it or how to channel everything he felt into anything more graceful than grasping frantically at the wall – which, of course, had no grip – or Harvey’s arms again, which were woefully out of reach.

Harvey could sense the trepidation, almost feel it in his own hand as he pulled hard against Mike’s hip, nails digging in just enough to say _stay still_ without actually needing to say _stay still._ In all actuality, Harvey knew he didn’t have to hold Mike still, that obedience would still flow freely from him like he was born to be just that. But if Harvey _didn’t,_ he knew Mike was going to shake like a leaf without trying and maybe collapse from nerves or even slip and fall based on the way he kept standing up on his toes to slow things down.

But Harvey had been waiting too long, and he couldn’t wait any longer, and he was so, _so_ done with going slow. And Mike could take it, he could, because Harvey leaned in, bodies flush, and told him to, just as he started to push inside him. “You can take it.”

“Oh, god, fuck, Harvey, _wait, fuck, I,”_ Mike let out a string of gasps and stutters and f-bombs as he flattened his chest against the wall completely, Harvey tugging his ass back to meet his dick as he pushed and pushed until it finally slid past that first, sensitive ring of muscle, and then all Mike could do was groan and gasp and shake against him. “I can’t, ow, _fuck, unh, Harvey, please.”_

Against his desire to immediately start pounding him, Harvey held back and thrust slow and controlled, letting Mike adjust, or at least try to adjust to the feeling – thought with the way he was stuttering and gasping and cussing and whining it was hard to say if he was ever going to get used to being that full. But better to be careful, Harvey decided. It was taking a lot of willpower to stay calm. He didn’t want to hurt Mike, but he didn’t want to go easy on him either. He wanted to go the distance, fast, and hard and right there with him, forcing Mike to try and keep up, just like in the race. It was only fair after all – and besides, Harvey had fucking _won this._ Mike was his Stanley Cup of road racing.

 _“Fuck, Mike,”_ he practically growled into his ear. His hips jerked forward a little faster and Mike whimpered in surprise. “Wanted to see you wet and filthy and get you clean just to make you filthy again, and it worked, it worked perfectly, wanted you to know how hard you make me.”

Mike struggled to hold his balance with the water pouring down near his feet, but Harvey seemed to pick up on it and wound one arm tighter around his waist and arm, holding him securely against him, their bodies soaked and sliding against each other with every roll of Harvey’s hips.

“Let go,” Harvey told him, tugging Mike’s other hand off the wall, pushing it down to his side and then closing it, too, into a tight embrace that left Mike completely restrained and cradled and forced to trust Harvey entirely to hold him up. “There. I got you.”

He leaned forward and turned his head so he could kiss Mike, hard and possessive, an impulsive impact of lips and teeth and tongue. The angle was awkward, but with Mike looking over his shoulder, Harvey was able to get his mouth on his and keep it there, just fucking his mouth with his tongue, swallowing all of Mike’s shouts until he had to stop so that they could breathe and so he could hear those sounds again – because Mike being so helplessly vocal was the hottest thing Harvey had ever seen.

He switched expertly to using just one arm to hold Mike up and pin both his arms at his sides, freeing up his right hand to snake fingers into Mike’s soaked hair and then pull his head back roughly.

“You’re so tight,” Harvey whispered, moving in and out in slow, decisive strokes. “So, fucking, _tight,_ just, like, I imagined. Unh, gonna fuck you…gonna fuck you hard now.”

“Wait, Harvey,” Mike cut in but Harvey was already picking up the pace, leaning into each thrust with his weight, burying his dick so deep Mike felt his knees buckle. It was weird and it was good and invasive and uncomfortable and overwhelming, and then Harvey started hitting his prostate and Mike just…lost it. _“Oh fuck, what, god, Harvey, please, can you…”_

“Please can I what?” Harvey asked, panting hotly against Mike’s throat, tight fingers still pulling him back by his hair. He rolled his hips forward hard, punctuating each one with a quiet but shaky _fuccckk_ that he couldn’t quite stop from escaping his lips. “You keep saying please like a little slut but you’re not asking for anything. If you don’t ask for what you want, I’m just gonna keep giving you what you need instead and it might not be the same thing, Mike.”

Mike moaned, loud and involuntary, kneejerk sounds flooding from his mouth as jolts of pleasure and a dull pain spread over him. It was way too much. He was sure he was going to slip right through Harvey’s wet, slick grasp or just faint altogether from the steam and the heat and the relentless sensation. In all of his confliction, he managed to form a short sentence. “I can’t…take…it,” he admitted, though his voice betrayed him, ending on a high pitch _unhhhh!_ that sounded a lot like taking it was _exactly_ what he wanted to keep doing.

“Why?” Harvey asked.

“Too…too _much.”_

“Are you tapping out on me already, baby?”

“N-no, I just,” Mike had to close his eyes at the revelation of Harvey calling him _baby._ That was going to do other things to him that he couldn’t even handle at the same time. “Just…go slow…er, slower.”

“Mmmm,” Harvey hummed against him, like he was carefully considering it. But then he let go of Mike’s hair and slid his forearm under his jaw, putting just enough pressure against his throat to tip his head back. Harvey’s voice went thick and low again. “Are you telling _me_ what to do, Mike?”

Mike tried to shake his head, but caught in Harvey’s grasp, it was virtually impossible. Finally he squeaked out, “No.”

“Good,” Harvey told him, sliding his left hand down Mike’s stomach. “You’re hard again,” he observed, and then, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Mike sputtered. “I just…”

“Then I’m not going slow,” Harvey said, between quick breaths, holding Mike tight, hips still thrusting forward relentlessly. With one arm, he released Mike’s, but kept his other arm against his throat. “You can touch yourself, Mike. I’m gonna fuck you harder now, as hard as I can, because you feel so good and I’m so close. If you come, you come, if you don’t, you don’t. But either way you’re gonna _stand here_ and be a _good boy_ and _take it._ Right?”

“Ohgodohfuck,” Mike swallowed hard, feeling the muscle of Harvey’s arm against his windpipe. _“Rightright.”_

Harvey knew what the magic words were and what they’d always been, and he’d known it the second he’d said them that very first time and had caught Mike’s shoulders dipping like a full body shake that he’d tried to play off as a chill from – what was it? walking under the A/C vent? – but Harvey knew the truth, and apparently, it still held all of its power. He only was using it sparingly up until now because he knew it was what Mike wanted to hear and he didn’t want to give him everything he wanted too quickly. He spoiled the kid enough as it was, after all.

But now Mike was coming apart, letting Harvey jerk him back onto his dick as he slammed into him, one hand on his own dick, stroking himself furiously, head forced back almost to rest on Harvey’s shoulder, completely controlled. Harvey was calling all the shots and Mike was trying as hard as could to ride out that electricity that came with the notoriously fleeting praise, and as Harvey felt his own orgasm building, he couldn’t deny Mike what he wanted any longer. All of a sudden Harvey had the urge to give him anything and everything he wanted and to do it all at once, because he felt so good, because he _was_ so good, because he was perfect and he was _his_ and he was _Mike_ for God’s sake.

So he did.

He loosened his hold on Mike’s throat and pressed his mouth up close to his ear and kept up a hard, rough rhythm, hitting Mike exactly where he needed it, making him give in and just take it and whine as he jerked himself wildly.

“Good boy,” Harvey breathed, finally giving in. And God, Mike fucking _shook_ against him before the words had even rolled completely off of Harvey’s tongue.

“I am…?” Mike whispered, immediately trailing off, words replaced again with an endless whimper in a loop that was music to Harvey’s ears, because _he_ was making him do that, making him feel that, making him sound like that. Harvey could still tell from his tone that Mike had meant it as a question, and he was only happy to give him the validation he was desperate for.

“Yeah,” he purred. “You are. Such a good boy, Mike, _my_ good boy. Gonna…come for me again…aren’t you?”

“Uhh _, y-yeah,”_ Mike groaned, followed by a string of _ohgodnnghhhfffucckk_ as Harvey’s praise pushed him right over the edge for a second time. It was everything at once, the combination of those words, the tone they were spoken in – the effect of which Mike didn’t even want to analyze, probably ever – the way his scalp tingled from how hard his hair was pulled, the way he jerked himself hard and gracelessly, and the way Harvey’s dick filled him up and kept hitting him in that sweet spot again and again and… It was all of that coming together to build inside him as waves of twisting pleasure that lasted longer than he thought ever could, leaving him breathing hard, his legs like rubber, trembling in Harvey’s arms.

“God…you’re…per… _fect,”_ Harvey told him, words coming out a broken whimper, his hips stuttering forward hard and then stilling. _“Fuck. Mike.”_

He stayed like that, just resting his head against Mike’s, their breaths gradually slowing. He was still holding onto him and he could feel Mike going slack in his arms, all of his muscles and energy completely spent. When he gently turned him around, Mike gasped a little at the emptiness and then his arms reached out reflexively, looking for a part of Harvey to cling to.

“Still got you,” Harvey told him quietly, sliding a hand around his back. He tugged him forward, putting them both back under the water, letting it rinse them off. “We have to get out of here. I can hardly feel my own skin anymore.”

Mike nodded in agreement but didn’t make any proactive movements to actually do it. Instead he just leaned into Harvey’s embrace, forehead resting gently on his neck, and Harvey thought for a second that he could actually be falling asleep. He gave Mike a few more minutes and then made the executive decision to finally shut off the water and usher him out the door before they both melted.

 

Standing outside the bathroom door – because the steam was starting to get to him – Harvey did a half-assed job of drying himself off before wrapping the towel snugly around his waist.

A few feet away on the edge of the bed, already mostly-dry and wrapped in another towel – as well as one of Harvey’s t-shirts – Mike realized that the way Harvey was wearing his own towel wasn’t the same as how he’d worn it earlier. Now it was up higher, wrapped tighter, tucked in securely – the earmark of habit, really – and so Mike knew immediately that the way it had slipped precariously loose and low before had obviously been just another one of Harvey’s deviously sexy ploys to lead Mike into temptation. Which had been a wild success, of course, so Mike couldn’t actually do anything about the revelation except be impressed. So he was easy when it came to Harvey – but who wouldn’t be? And anyway, Harvey didn’t exactly have a lot of willpower when it came to him, either, if today was any indication.

“You good?” Harvey asked, striding over and kissing Mike’s damp hair.

Mike nodded, his expression sated, shoulders slouched, lazy, relaxed. “Yeah.”

Harvey shot Mike a smile that made him blush and then turned his back and walked to the closet.

“Hey, uh,” Mike called, uncertain. “Is it gonna be weird now...like, uh, at work?”

“Probably,” Harvey said casually, knowing it would drive Mike insane. He returned with clothes and proceeded to put them on in front of him, slowly and deliberately.

Mike just stared back, watching, completely distracted from the unhelpful reply until Harvey was finally fully dressed. “Probably?”

Harvey smirked, “If you’re asking whether or not I’ll notice when you turn red during a meeting because you can’t stop thinking about this, and if you’ll look away anytime anyone ever makes any vaguely sexual reference within thirty feet of us, then, yeah. _Probably.”_

“I…” Mike couldn’t think of a response to _that_ so he ended up trying for a little humility. “I wouldn’t…turn red.”

“You are right now.”

“No, I’m not.”

Harvey looked down and raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, well, that’s because you were getting dressed in front of me and…”

“Mike.” Harvey knelt down in front of him and slid his hands up Mike’s legs, resting them on his thighs just under the towel. It was fascinatingly effective in rendering him silent. Then Harvey looked him dead in the eye. “I just fucked you so hard you could barely walk to this bed. So if you’re gonna blush over something, it’s not gonna be because I was putting clothes _on.”_

Harvey stood up headed for the bedroom door, leaving Mike sitting there opening and closing his mouth uselessly.

“And by the way,” Harvey added, turning around. “I don’t have any pants that will fit you, and your shorts are still soaked in sweat, so I guess you’ll just have to stay here until I wash and dry them.”

Mike frowned at the exaggeration – he’d worn Harvey’s suit before and however ill-fitting it had been, surely _something_ of Harvey’s would suffice, at least for the sake of getting him home – but he knew what Harvey was trying to do, or at least, he thought he might be figuring it out. “Are you trying to strand me in your condo by keeping my clothes hostage?”

But Harvey had already left the room. When he returned, looking smug, Mike tossed up his hands.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here in a towel then?”

“Of course not,” Harvey shook his head. “I’m washing the towel too.”    

Mike wasn’t sure if he was serious, but when Harvey reached out an expectant hand, Mike yanked off the towel and threw it at him.

“You can keep the shirt.”

“Oh. _Thanks.”_

“Consider it a consolation prize,” Harvey shrugged. A sly smile formed on his face as he tossed the towel down on the floor. He walked forward until he was pushing Mike back into the center of the bed and lying half on top of him.

“You tricked me,” Mike observed with a fake pout.

“I know, I’m good at that.”

“I could’ve run harder. I went easy on you.”

“Nice try, rookie. You almost _died_ trying to win that race.”

After that, Mike couldn’t keep pretending to be annoyed by Harvey’s ability to outsmart him. He started laughing, hiding his face with his hands as he did. It was hard to stop. Finally, he calmed down enough to talk. “How long did you plan this?”

“Plan what?”

Mike rolled eyes, “This. You know, setting up the bet, manipulating the terms, luring me here under false pretenses…”

“I lured you here under _no_ pretenses,” Harvey insisted, still hovering over Mike. He was running his fingers through his hair, looking at him with a level of affection that both calmed and unsettled him and that he knew couldn’t be chased out of his system even if he trolled for new flings every night for three months. “Besides,” he continued. “You’re the one who started questioning my athletic ability. I merely saw the potential benefit of a bet.”

“That sounds vaguely…predatory.”

Harvey pretended to think it over for a second and then said, “I prefer opportunistic.”  

Mike laughed again and Harvey rolled off, falling back onto a pillow and pulling Mike up under his arm. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure what he’d gotten either of them into, hell, not even fifty percent. Contrary to however sneaky and premeditated Mike thought he was, Harvey’s plan had actually been the hasty and impulsive result of a long, slow-burning crush. But what Harvey _did_ know was that he always trusted his gut. And right now, his gut told him this was right. He decided in lieu of freaking out over the possible but unlikely professional ramifications, he’d focus on the fact that he was happy and Mike seemed like he was too and so there wasn’t any reason to worry about crossing bridges they hadn’t come to yet.

“Well next time I’ll pick something that won’t be so easy for you,” Mike said.

“Yeah?” Harvey asked.

“Mmhm,” Mike shrugged. “Like cycling, even though it’s beneath you.”

“Are you saying you want to make another bet with me?”

“Yeah, but I would totally win this time.”

“If you didn’t, you know I’d get to do whatever I want to you.”

“I know.”

“And if by some stroke of luck you did beat me…” Harvey mused out loud. “Could I still…do what _ever_ I wanted to you?”

Mike hesitated, eventually whispering _, “Yeah.”_ He snuggled up close and sighed sleepily. He’d been up since 6am, after all, ran faster and further than he had since high school track before being fucked into oblivion – and it was safe to say he was exhausted. It was the good kind, though, post-exercise, post-sex, muscles relaxed, body warm and flooded with endorphins.

Harvey felt the same fatigue. He looked at Mike, curled up against his side, and watched his breathing grow heavier and heavier with sleep. Harvey had put off crossing a line the way today had, for so long because he thought it would be a huge mistake. Which, he realized, as he tightened his arm around Mike, might still be one – only time would tell, really.

But he sighed contentedly anyway, knowing that they’d deal with any fallout. It would be worth it, and they could both bet on that.

*


End file.
